CHAPTER 130: CHAPTER 130: STRIPPING ME BARE [UNCLE DROPS THE ACT!]

Sharon’s little backpack was still slung across her shoulder, looking just like the first time I saw her—except the little rabbit was missing.

My nose stung, the heart that had been stuck in my throat finally fell back into my chest, and my eyes instantly grew hot.

"I brought Sharon back to you. Take good care of her."

When he spoke, his voice carried a bit of the night breeze’s chill, but it was especially steady.

I looked at Julian Sinclair, my throat tightening, and forced out a soft, rough "thank you."

He raised his hand, his fingertips gently wiping the dampness under my eyes, with a trace of restrained tenderness.

I instinctively avoided his touch, turning to the side to let him and Sharon into the living room.

I crouched down and hugged Sharon tight, checking her up and down anxiously. "Sharon, did anyone bully you?"

Sharon clearly didn’t know anything; she smiled, showing her two little tiger teeth: "Auntie Ellison, nobody bullied me! Uncle Sinclair said you missed me, so he let Daddy bring me over late at night!"

After saying that, she looked at me in confusion and asked, "Auntie Ellison, why are you crying?"

"No, I just... missed you too much, Sharon."

I sniffled, forcing the tears back, and steadied Sharon by her shoulders as we stood up.

When I looked at Julian Sinclair, I found him looking at me too.

But as soon as my gaze met his, his deep eyes quickly shifted away.

Just then, Sharon yawned.

It made me realize how late it was.

"Are you sleepy?" I asked gently.

Sharon rubbed her eyes and nodded, then asked, "Where’s Doris? Is she asleep?"

I nodded.

Sharon yawned again. "Then I’ll go to sleep too. I’ll be quiet, I won’t disturb her."

Such a good kid—thank God I didn’t go against my conscience and give her up.

Otherwise, I’d never have peace for the rest of my life.

And so, Sharon tiptoed into the bedroom she shared with Doris.

Once again, the living room was left with just Julian Sinclair and me.

He didn’t linger like that night he stayed at my place, just said coolly, "I’ll get going."

As he turned to leave, I couldn’t help but ask, "About the Young Family... what did you do to make them return Sharon? If I’ve caused you trouble, I... apologize. If there’s anything I can do to make it up, I will."

Julian Sinclair’s eyes lowered slightly. "Why do you care so much? If I were you, I’d worry about myself instead—aren’t your problems already enough to deal with?"

I knew he meant the thing between Timothy Xavier and me.

I couldn’t stop a hint of sadness from my tone. "You’ve already figured out how to block all my escape routes, even had Leo Grant pull my medical history from the hospital. I want to worry about myself too, but my opponent is you—what am I supposed to do? Now, I just want to know, why are you helping Timothy Xavier?"

The look under Julian Sinclair’s glasses darkened, his tone unreadably resigned. "No comment."

My heart sank, and he was already turning the doorknob, ready to leave.

Unwilling to let it go, I caught up with him. "Does Timothy Xavier know about my depression? Has he seen the file?"

Julian Sinclair turned, fixing his deep gaze on my face, as though trying to see through me: "What are you trying to say?"

My throat tightened. My voice was soft, almost pleading: "Could you... pretend you don’t know about my depression? Otherwise, the judge really will give Doris to Timothy Xavier..."

The air went still for a few seconds. Then Julian Sinclair answered, his calm tone almost cruel to my ears: "Sorry, as an attorney, I’m obligated to protect my client’s interests."

With that, he didn’t glance at me again and turned to open the door.

The cold wind carried the night in, and as the door clicked shut, my excitement and joy at seeing Sharon were buried under the sorrow of soon losing Doris.

I stood frozen, still unable to understand—which one is the real Julian Sinclair?

...

The next morning, Doris opened her eyes in a hazy daze—and was surprised to see Sharon was back!

She rubbed her eyes and looked closely for a long time, then exclaimed, delighted, "Sharon! When... when did you get back?"

Sharon was braiding her hair and smiling. "Uncle Sinclair brought me back last night. You were sleeping so well that he didn’t wake you up."

Doris was overjoyed—at breakfast, she gave all her favorite shrimp cakes to Sharon.

Sharon, caught off guard by the generosity, said, "Doris, I can’t eat that much!"

"Just eat it when I say eat it!"

When Doris got bossy, she really resembled Timothy Xavier. "All of it! Or I’ll be mad!"

I couldn’t help but shake my head, saying to Sharon, "If you can’t finish, don’t force yourself. I’ll have some."

Doris saw that and quickly said, "Then give it back—I’ll eat it myself! I haven’t had enough yet!"

Watching these two kids, I truly felt happy.

I just didn’t know how much longer this happiness would last.

On the way to the kindergarten, Doris and Sharon sat together in the back, chattering non-stop.

Suddenly, Doris seemed to remember something and asked, "Oh, when your mom picked you up that day, did she hit you?"

Sharon shook her head, sounding a little naive: "No, she just took me to my grandparents’ place."

But then she fell silent and lowered her head a little gloomily. "But Grandpa and Grandma... they don’t seem to like me much either."

Doris immediately frowned and patted Sharon’s shoulder—a little streetwise: "So what! As long as my mom and I like you, that’s enough! You can hang with us from now on!"

With that, Doris asked me, "Mom, Sharon doesn’t have to go back to her mom anymore, right?"

I hesitated, my tone weakening, "Mm, she probably won’t go back for now."

Only I knew how little confidence I really had in that answer.

After all, even I had no idea how long Julian Sinclair’s ’get out of jail free card’ would keep Sharon safe.

...

After dropping Doris and Sharon off, I’d just turned the car around when my phone rang.

It was the producer, Vianne Quincy.

"Vera, what’s wrong? Is there something in the script you want to adjust?"

Vera sighed heavily. "Raina’s in trouble."

I was stunned. "But isn’t she shooting the last scenes with the crew? There aren’t supposed to be any risky scenes in what I wrote! Did she get injured filming?"

Vera’s voice was full of anxiety. "Not injured—someone sent me a bunch of photos. Raina and the Hawthorne family’s crown prince. The kind of photos... you know, they’re indecent as hell."

"The Hawthorne family’s crown prince?"

I blurted out, "You mean Mason Hawthorne?"

Vera was obviously surprised. "You know Mason Hawthorne too?"

I answered awkwardly, "Not really—we’ve just met a few times."

"That’s him!"

Vera sounded even more annoyed and cursed under her breath. "God knows who’s stirring up trouble, picking the worst moment—right when we’re about to wrap the show! If this leaks, the whole series is screwed!"

She continued, "Come down to the studio if you’re free. Raina doesn’t know yet. Once she’s done shooting her last scene, we need to sit down with her."

Leaving the office, I rushed to the set; dusk was already spreading across the sky.

At the entrance, I saw the crew bustling as they packed up equipment, and Raina was just changing out of costume.

Her face, most of the makeup removed, was full of post-wrap excitement, still holding a bouquet she’d just been given.

"Zoe! What are you doing here?" She saw me right away, smiling and hurrying over, still buzzing with the adrenaline from shooting.

Before I could answer, she reached out to hug me, her tone sincere: "Your script was amazing. Every time I acted, it felt thrilling. Thank you for this opportunity!"

I was just about to reply when I saw Vera storm over, face dark, with her assistant behind her.

Raina walked over, started joking coquettishly, "Vera, why’d you cancel our wrap party? We worked so hard—you can’t make us go without a proper sendoff!"

Vera ignored her, only shot a cold look toward the resting area: "Come with me. We need to talk."

Raina froze, confusion flickering in her eyes, but still followed us into the room.

As soon as the door shut, Vera took out an envelope from her bag.

She tossed it at Raina with a smack, anger tightly restrained in her voice: "Look at it yourself, and explain!"

Raina hesitated and took the envelope, pulling out the photos inside.

Within seconds, her expression went from bewildered to deathly pale. Her fingers trembled as she clenched the photos, her breathing growing labored.

Vera and I exchanged glances, the last hope in our hearts dashed.

It was true—this really happened.

Watching Raina’s panic, I couldn’t help but think—even this seemingly pure, bold girl wasn’t so different from Serena Sawyer.

Serena relied on Timothy Xavier; Raina’s backer was Mason Hawthorne.

Raina said nothing, just shakily pulled out her phone, pressing the wrong number several times before finally reaching Mason Hawthorne.

On the other end he seemed to pick up, and her voice quivered, "Someone sent photos of us to the studio. They’re... explicit..."

Before she’d finished, the dressing room door was suddenly kicked open.

The one who barged in was Mrs. Hawthorne—Jessica Young.

Raina’s face instantly went white, her phone slipping from her hand.

Vera frowned, and before either of us could react, Jessica stormed over and slapped Raina hard, again and again.

The crisp sound of slaps was especially sharp in the small room.

She grabbed Raina by the hair, wrenching her head back, gritting her teeth: "If Serena hadn’t told me, I’d never have known my husband was keeping a little slut like you! How dare you steal my man? You’ve got some nerve!"

Tears streamed down Raina’s face from the pain, but she didn’t argue or fight back, just bit her lip until it nearly bled.

Vera and I exchanged glances—so Serena was behind this too.

Vera muttered under her breath, seething, "Had a miscarriage and still causing chaos, can’t rest until the world’s a mess!"

After berating Raina, Jessica’s eyes suddenly flicked to me. She pointed at me and shouted, "You’re here too? Birds of a feather flock together! You and this little slut are in it together, aren’t you? Don’t think taking Sharon away means you’ll get away with it. I’m telling you, Sharon’s custody is in my hands—sooner or later she’s coming back to me!"

Vera and I both knew Raina really was involved with Mason Hawthorne—right now, we had no leg to stand on and could only suppress our anger.

The most important thing was to handle the crisis. If this blew up, the show—and all our hard work—would be in vain.

But Jessica obviously wasn’t finished. She dragged Raina out by the hair.

"Come on! Let everyone see the fox you really are!"

The crew hadn’t all left yet—they gathered round but no one dared step forward.

Jessica stopped and ordered her bodyguards, "Strip her naked! Isn’t she good at seducing men? Today, I’ll let her seduce to her heart’s content!"

Only now did Raina panic completely, struggling and crying to us, "Vera! Zoe! Help me! Please help!"

Jessica sneered, looking down on us, "If anyone here dares meddle, I’ll strip you too! Try me if you don’t believe it!"

Vera, furious, was just about to charge in but I held her back.

"No one’s here to help—rushing over is useless."

I lowered my voice quickly, "Get the crew security. I’ll call the police. Let’s split up."

Vera nodded. We slipped back to the office amid the chaos and locked the door.

I immediately reached for my phone to call the police.

Raina’s screams outside had me furious and anxious.

As soon as the call ended, I hurried back out only to freeze at the sight.

The sound of fabric ripping mixed with Raina’s sobs—a jarring soundtrack to the open set.

One bodyguard was running his hands up Raina’s legs, filthy words spilling from his mouth: "Damn, you’re fresh! President Hawthorne’s gotten a good deal!"

Jessica held her phone close for pictures, her mouth curled up in a grotesque grin.

I knew I shouldn’t, but as Raina’s undergarments were about to be ripped away, I couldn’t help myself anymore.

As a woman, I hate homewreckers too.

But the way Mrs. Hawthorne trampled others’ dignity with such twisted cruelty, it made my skin crawl.

I pulled out my phone. "I’ve already called the police! The whole set’s covered with surveillance—everything you do is on camera!"

At that, the bodyguards hesitated, glancing uncertainly at each other and stopping their hands.

Jessica narrowed her eyes at me, gritting her teeth. "Zoe Ellison, you asked for this!"

She barked to the bodyguards, "What are you afraid of? Pin this Ellison bitch down, strip her too!"

The bodyguards hesitated, and one quietly protested, "Madam, the police are coming. Maybe... we should wait for another chance?"

"So what if they called the police?"

Jessica glared up at the cameras overhead, her voice jaw-clenched arrogant: "I’ll take full responsibility! Right now, strip both their clothes and dump them on the street! Let the world see what happens to bitches like them!"

With that reassurance, the bodyguards finally acted, coming for me at a run.

I was stunned, never realizing Jessica could be so bold she didn’t even fear the police.

Before I could retreat, two bodyguards had already dragged me violently beside Raina and threw me on the ground.

One man’s greedy gaze swept my body, then he gripped my knitted top and yanked hard.

I screamed and struggled, but he slapped me twice—my cheeks burned instantly.

"Bitch, you dare meddle in Madam’s business? Today, you’ll learn your lesson!"

He cursed viciously, his other hand already reaching for my skirt.

I kicked at his knees with all I had, but he pinned me down—his thick, purple lips coming right for me.

Disgusted, I jerked my head away, thinking I’d be done for today.

But before he could touch me, he screamed—his whole body crashed to the ground beside me.

Shocked, I looked up, my heart pounding in terror.

Mason Hawthorne was here—and Julian Sinclair was with him.

Raina was curled on the ground, her clothes already torn to shreds, barely covered at all.

I still had my clothes, but my knitted top’s collar was ripped wide open, a smear of blood by my lips—I was no less wretched than her.

Seeing my state, for a split second, a flash of violent fury appeared in Julian Sinclair’s perpetually calm eyes.

He quickly shrugged off his suit jacket, wrapped it around me, and gently helped me up.

And at his side was Mason Hawthorne.

Raina was covered in bruises, bloodied lips—her battered state was shocking.

Mason’s face trembled almost imperceptibly. Like Julian, he took off his jacket and covered Raina, then scooped her up and set her gently on a nearby chair.

He showed no embarrassment at all; right in front of everyone, he gently stroked Raina’s swollen, red face and said softly, "I’m sorry I was late."

Then he turned to Jessica Young. "Was this your doing?"

Jessica lifted her chin. "So what? If you want to keep a mistress behind my back, you think you’re the victim here? If I didn’t rip this little slut apart today, it was only because I was merciful!"

Before she finished, Mason slapped her across the face; Jessica’s eyes went wide.

"Mason Hawthorne, you dare hit me?"

Pointing at him, she shrieked, "Don’t forget how you got where you are today! If it wasn’t for our family—the Youngs—your stepmother and brother would have eaten you alive years ago! You—"

She hadn’t finished when Mason gripped her jaw, one word at a time: "Jessica Young, you really think you’re still Mrs. Hawthorne?"

Jessica’s expression changed, her arrogance crumbling in an instant.

The bodyguards behind Jessica were now trembling, as Mason’s glare fixed on them.

"Which of you touched Raina? Step forward!"

He barked it, but the guards just looked at each other, too scared to move.

Just then, the police arrived.

But Julian Sinclair went straight to the door and didn’t let them in.

The officer recognized him, shocked. "Attorney Sinclair, you’re here too?"

Julian nodded, as polite as ever. "Sorry, there was a dispute on set, but it’s been settled. You can go back."

I couldn’t believe it—he actually sent the police away!

Was he still planning to shield Jessica?

The police left, and Jessica obviously relaxed—a smug look, thinking Julian was really helping her.

She even walked over, tearfully complaining: "Julian, you and Mason are friends—you know how he is! All these years of marriage, I’m nothing to him. Now he’s keeping a mistress, and it’s killing me. Thank god you understand."

Mason came over, his face holding a hint of restrained anger. He said to Julian, "What possessed you to send the police away? You should have had that shrew locked up!"

Now, Julian Sinclair’s professionalism as a lawyer showed.

He said flatly, "At best, she’d be detained a few days. With the Youngs’ influence, whether they bail her out or use connections, she’ll get out. Would you really hire an attorney to sue the Youngs for Raina?"

Mason fell silent.

Julian turned to the crowd. "Does everyone want to keep watching? Don’t you have anything better to do?"

Hearing his meaning, the onlookers scattered in a hurry.

I thought Julian was just trying to keep things quiet.

But what he said next made Jessica and the rest go pale.

He asked Leo Grant, "Did you pull the surveillance? Which ones touched Miss Ellison and Miss Ainsworth?"

Leo said, "All five bodyguards touched them."

"I see."

Julian said to his own bodyguards, "Watch the surveillance, too. Wherever they touched them—break that part."

He gave these orders with such calm it seemed trivial, but he held the power of life and death over these guards.

Jessica finally realized, frightened, glaring at Julian: "You’re... you’re abetting these two bitches! Our Young Family isn’t to be messed with, you hear me?"

"Almost forgot—you too..."

Julian glanced at her, then said to Leo, "Since Mrs. Hawthorne likes stripping people, let’s return the favor. Strip her, and take plenty of pictures for her to keep as a souvenir."

He added, tilting his chin at Mason, "And while you’re at it, swap out the wedding photos in you guys’ bedroom for these. Maybe then Mrs. Hawthorne will behave in the future."

Jessica shook her head, unable to believe this was Julian Sinclair.

After all, his image had always been refined, distant—even I found it hard to believe these words were coming out of his mouth.

Only Mason really understood him.

He shot Mason a meaningful look, and Mason grinned at the bodyguards. "What are you waiting for? Get to work!"

Jessica howled, "Mason, you dare! Without the Youngs’ support, you’re nothing!"

Mason smiled coldly. "Once we have nudes of Mrs. Hawthorne, I’m sure your family will be even more eager to back me in the future."

With that, he gave a signal.

Screams filled the studio again.

Jessica’s among them—as well as the bodyguards who were having their arms and legs broken.

The one who’d been so savage toward me earlier had his leg smashed with a metal rod by Julian’s men—blood splattered everywhere. I was terrified.

Just then, a clean, slender hand appeared in front of my eyes.

Julian’s calm voice sounded in my ear: "Close your eyes if it scares you."

The screams reminded me of the humiliation Raina and I just suffered.

I whispered, "Can you take me away?"

"Okay."

He helped me to my feet and escorted me out, protecting me.

At the door, he said to Mason, "All yours to clean up!"

Even as I got into Julian’s car, I still hadn’t recovered from the shock.

The driver didn’t dare look back, while Julian sat beside me, his gaze clouded with complicated emotions.

I knew how wrecked I must look. His jacket still carried his familiar warmth. I pulled it tighter, bowing my head.

Then his cool fingertips brushed the bruise on my lips. I instinctively flinched away, but his hand didn’t leave—instead, he gently stroked my cheek.

I froze, too scared to move even a little.